


The Ugly Duckling

by tezzzz



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, sorry - Freeform, that i did, this is athing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9479447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tezzzz/pseuds/tezzzz
Summary: Mike notices something different about Harvey's office, and decides to do something about it.





	

Ugly.

That’s all Mike can think. It’s big, and garish, and bright, and Mike’s wondering why he never really took any notice of it when he used to see it every day. Why it’s only now he’s unfortunate enough to be staring at this huge eye-sore.

He didn’t even notice its absence at first. When he stormed into Harvey’s office that night, first time in three months he’d stepped foot in the firm, he was too pissed to take anything in. Too angry. At Harvey, at himself, the entire world. Too caught up in his own mixed emotions that he didn’t have time to take in his surroundings, to see what had changed since his time inside.

It was only when he walked into Harvey’s office the second time, tail between his legs and a shitty apology on his tongue, that something felt different.

And with a little more time on the clock, Mike had chance to take note.

The signed basketballs still sat along the windowsill, masses of records still decorated the shelves, the leather couch still in place and the chaise lounge by the window without a speck of dust on it, like Mike remembered. Mike couldn’t see a single thing out of place that he didn’t recognize, but he couldn’t shake the feeling.

It took him a week to realize. He was meeting Harvey for a drink after work, walked into that same office for the umpteenth time with that same unexplained instinct, and Harvey was sitting at the table with Louis—their metaphorical tape measures evident, shouts could be heard from the end of the goddamn corridor—that’s when it twigged.

There was a painting Harvey had, with a creepy girl and a big green duck with soulless eyes that hung on the wall.

It was gone.

Mike never understood what it was doing in a guy like Harvey’s office, anyway. Not when he really thought about it. It wasn’t particularly nice to look at, and it didn’t really match the style of Harvey Specter—a man whose lifestyle tended to cost more daily, than Mike’s entire month’s salary.

He just didn’t get it.

He thought maybe Harvey had just gotten rid of it, did a spring clean of his office and realized that, in fact, it didn’t belong in there. Harvey never mentioned its disappearance and Mike had no reason to question it. But it hadn’t been replaced, either.

And Mike was really bored.

So, given his unemployment and unlimited amount of spare time, Mike decided to do some digging, starting with Harvey. In between meeting Rachel and spending time with Harvey anyway, he was constantly finding himself at the firm, so it wasn’t difficult to find an opportunity.

At least he had more of a reason to keep on hanging around.

As they so often did, they were sharing a drink on the couch in his office one night. Harvey was particularly stressed about a case and Mike figured the least he could do was be his sounding board, he wouldn’t help Harvey nor would he work with him in this firm again, but he was still his friend.

He listened to Harvey for hours, let him throw ideas his way, talk himself in and out of theories that Mike desperately had to stop himself from adding to, and eventually when he’d spun all of his stories and they’d fallen silent, two more drinks down, Mike brought it up.

Or, he tried to.

Harvey’s not an art man, but the ugly painting wasn’t the only thing he had on his wall. Mike approached the huge canvas, with the charcoal drawings on it, “Please tell me you drew this,” He stated, eyes scanning the frame for any indication as to who actually did. “I’m picturing a fifteen-year-old Harvey Specter, you know, filled with all that teenage angst, scribbling furiously with a pencil.”

Mike looked back at Harvey, who remained seated, just in time to see him roll his eyes. “It came with the office,” Harvey makes the remark and downs what’s left in his glass.

“Didn’t you used to have something else?” Mike asked, glancing around the rest of the office. Harvey began shaking his head but Mike continued, “Yeah, you—it was—I’m sure you had something. Another painting… yeah, here,” He pointed at the bare space near the table. “Something used to be here.”

Harvey’s expression went blank, and he shrugged. “Must’ve cleared it out,”

Mike could see straight through his nonchalance, though. Harvey’s a closed book most of the time and there’s very few people who have gotten in under the wire, but Mike’s one of those very few. He’s known the man too long, and fortunately knows him too well, to accept that as an answer.

That, and the fact there’s still a thin outline of dust on the wall. “Just as well,” Mike decided on staying. “That thing gave me the creeps. The doll, and the duck, where the hell did you get it, anyway? Yard sale? Thrift shop?”

“Would you shut up about the goddamn painting?” Harvey surprised him by snapping. He stared into the bottom of his empty glass in contemplation, “It was just a painting, Mike.” He added. “I can’t remember. Maybe Donna. I don’t know.”

Wow, touchy. 

Harvey didn’t want to talk about it anymore, the conversation signaled to be over when he poured them both another drink. Mike accepted it quietly, moving away from the blank space on the wall, back to the couch.

But Mike knew of at least one other person who knew Harvey as well as he did. And with the right measures taken, he knows just how to persuade her to tell him.

~~

Donna has Bikram yoga twice a week. Tuesdays and Fridays. Fridays because she likes to work off her ridiculously unhealthy coffee treat before she actually has it, so Mike decided to take a trip out and surprise her after her class finished.

At first, she wasn’t impressed to see him. Frowning when he met her outside with a grin.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying,” She’d said, and carried on walking down the street.

Mike fell into a quick step beside her and revealed the coffee he was hiding behind his back, and sure enough, it caught her interest like a moth to a flame. But Donna is a smart woman, she’s always been ten steps ahead of everybody else, so she managed to sniff out the ulterior motive through the sweet caramel.

“That painting in Harvey’s office, the one with the little girl and the duck, it used to hang on the wall by the table and now it’s gone,” Mike quickly cut to the chase when she began huffing impatiently, complaining her coffee was getting cold, the more time he wasted beating around the bush. “Where did he get it?”

His plan was simple. Find out, buy him another, or something better. Nicer. Something more appealing to look at, maybe. Mike had never been an expert in Art but even he knew it was no Mona Lisa or Van Gogh’s Starry Night. There must’ve been something better, more to Harvey’s tastes, that he could find.

“You can’t replace it,” Donna read his mind, shut him down straightaway. “There’s no replicas of that painting. It’s one of a kind.”

“Who painted it?” Maybe he could track down the artist, discover more of their work. You can find a thousand things online that should be buried down deep, it wouldn’t take long. He had all the time in the world lately, and he wanted to make it up to Harvey for being so cold when he first got out of Danbury.

After everything Harvey did to get him out of that hell hole, none of it was his fault, and Mike knew that as soon as he lashed out.

But his emotions were running so high that night, he couldn’t get his head around how the hell he should’ve been feeling. And Harvey’s… well, Harvey’s always been the one who can handle Mike at his absolute worst. That’s why he knew he could lash out, and at the end of the day, still have Harvey by his side. No matter what.

It wasn’t right, and Mike felt shitty, but it happened—now he just needs to find the perfect thing to make up for it, and this seemed as good an idea as any. Either this, or his favourite bottle of scotch, if all else fails.

“It doesn’t matter. But trust me, Mike, you won’t find another one like it.” Donna kept walking, more interested in her drink than their conversation.

“Come on, Donna. I need to do something.”

“If you really wanted to make it up to him, you’d drop it. It’s gone, and that’s it. Forget about it.”

But now he was more intrigued. How could he not ask about it, when they were both being so weird? He touched a hand to his friend’s shoulder to stop her, “Okay, now you have to tell me.” He’d said, “Who gave it to him? An old girlfriend? A—wait, don’t tell me he painted it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Does Harvey look like a man who has enough time in the day to waste painting, Mike?” She asked, and the answer was no. Obviously. No, he does not. “Listen, it’s nice of you to try and all, but Harvey wouldn’t appreciate the questions. Not after all this time.”

“I won’t need to ask him again if you tell me,” Mike pointed out, refusing to be talked down. That painting wasn’t just some lavish impulse buy, and now he was sure of it. “Donna, please. Just tell me. Who painted it?”

Donna lowered her gaze, staring down at her cup. A deep breath of a sigh escaped her, “His mother painted it. Before. That painting was like the last piece of affection Harvey had for her.”

Mike didn’t quite understand, “So, why did he get rid of it?”

“He didn’t, that’s the thing.” And now he was even more lost. “Stemple took it.”

“Stemple?” Mike repeated, “As in, Elliott Stemple? That douchebag from Harvey’s Harvard days?”

“The very same. Look, it happened while you were away and Harvey didn’t have a choice. Stemple wanted to cause problems for the firm, and it was already sinking. Harvey offered to pay him but he wanted the painting in return for his silence, so Harvey gave it to him.”

“And you didn’t get it back?”

Her expression soured, “You don’t think I tried? I did everything I could think of, Stemple wouldn’t budge. He knew it meant something to Harvey so he kept it out of spite, and there was nothing I could do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

Mike nodded. He knew Donna would’ve tried her best. When it came to Harvey, Mike knew Donna would do just about anything for him, so he believes her when she says she did everything in her power. But Mike didn’t have as much as Donna to lose.

He kissed Donna on the cheek. “Thanks, Donna. Do me a favour? Don’t mention this to Harvey.”

“Wha—where are you going?”

“To see a man about an ugly-ass painting.”

“I’m serious, Mike,” Donna warned. “Stemple won’t cave.”

And maybe she was right. Maybe Elliott Stemple wouldn’t voluntarily cave.

But there was nothing stopping Mike from trying to knock him down.

~~

And now here he is, in the man’s office, staring at the painting that doesn’t belong here. He tries to work out what it means. Most paintings have messages behind them, and given this one belonged to Harvey’s mom, it must’ve meant something.

Whatever it is, hidden message or not, it means something to Harvey. So, all Mike knows is, he can’t leave this office without that painting. He won’t.

“Mr. Ross,”

Christ, he’d forgotten how weasel-y Elliott Stemple was. He paints a smile on his face and turns to face the shorter man, eyes the bright red bow-tie he’s sporting. “Archibald,”

“I would say this is a pleasant surprise but we both know this is neither pleasant, nor a surprise.” Given Mike’s position in his office, it doesn’t take a genius to work out why he’s here. Hardly for a social call. “You’re wasting your time,”

“At least hear me out first, Stemple,” Mike reasons. “We both know you don’t really want this piece of shit.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” He stalks towards the both of them, staring lovingly over Mike’s shoulder. “I happen to think it’s quite… charming,”

“Bullshit,” Mike dismisses. “You’re keeping it to screw with Harvey, and you know it.”

“I disagree.”

“You’re still pissed that we beat you two years ago, and you knew damn well the only way you can ever beat Harvey is if you resort to dirty tactics, like blackmail.”

“Those are some heavy accusations, Mr. Ross. Not all of us are as corrupt as, say, a convicted fraud pretending to be a lawyer.”

Mike snorts a laugh, “I might be a fraudulent lawyer, but I have more wins as a fraud to my name than you do as a legitimate one.”

Stemple’s glare is cold, and hard. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome. If you don’t mind–”

“No, I think I’m just getting comfortable, and I do mind.” Mike shoots back. “Here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to give me this painting, and you’re going to honor your original agreement with Harvey. Figures of my choosing.”

“And why would I do anything you say?”

“Because if you don’t, believe me when I say I am going to make it my life’s mission to ruin you, Stemple.” Mike takes a step forward and towers over the man. “I’ve got all the time in the world to waste on you, now I’m just a convicted fraud and all. Do you really want Harvey Specter’s protégé picking apart every goddamn case you have your dirty hands on?”

Stemple’s beady eyes level, his attempts to stare Mike down aren’t lost on him but they don’t work. Anyone that knows him can argue he’s stubborn but lately, he’s noticed, he’s also a lot more calculated. He blames being locked up with a psychopath for three months.

It takes its toll.

“Every court date, I’ll be there.” Mike continues. “Every case, I’ll research. Every witness you talk to, I’ll talk to them, too. I’ll tell everyone who will listen what a Class-A bag of dicks you are, and I’ll make sure you have to fight ten times harder to win, if you ever even do. You’re a smart man, Archibald, look me in the eyes and tell me I’m bluffing.”

The smug smile never seems to leave Stemple’s face and Mike wonders if it’s surgically in place. “I’m not scared of you, Mr. Ross,” He declares.

“I don’t need you to fear me, Stemple. But believe me when I say I will drag up every case you have ever touched. Every page, every signature, every word you’ve ever said, I’ll have stripped apart. You screw with Harvey, you screw with me, and I’m a lot less professional than he is. I won’t wait until we’re in a court room to tear you apart.”

The weasel’s eyes widen.

“Now, the question is, are you really willing to risk your career for a painting that means nothing to you? All because you suck?”

A man like Elliott Stemple is easy to intimidate, when he has nothing up his sleeve to use against you.

He’s the kid at school who never gets picked in gym. The teacher’s pet who snitches on every wrongdoing he sees, yet somehow remains the biggest hypocrite a person could know.

Whereas, a man like Harvey—who is successful in every aspect of life. Personal, and career. The youngest to be Junior Partner, a star student known famously now throughout Harvard, undeniably handsome, and universally admired outside of work—it’s understandable why someone like Stemple would be jealous.

He’ll never be Harvey Specter.

Mike can relate, on some level. Everyone can, he supposes.

But a man like Stemple lacks a certain flair that Harvey has. Harvey isn’t cut and dry, Mike knows that. He doesn’t fight as dirty but he can resort to new lows if he has to, he just hides it a damn sight better. Stemple has the kind of history that he doesn’t want to become famously known, never mind become famously known for.

And Mike knows as well as he does that if they started poking around in his career, it wouldn’t take long.

Press ‘til it hurts—Mike learnt that from the best.

~~

“I should’ve done it differently,” Mike sighs, shaking his head. It was a stupid idea, and someone should’ve stopped him.

“You couldn’t have done it any differently, or any better, Mike.” Donna rubs his arm soothingly. “There’s nothing more you could’ve done.”

He appreciates the sentiment but it doesn’t make him feel any better. It doesn’t stop his palms from sweating or rid his stomach of the uneasy tension that sits in the pit of it. He lets out a harsh breath, and begins pacing. “What time is he back from the meeting?”

Donna checks her watch. “Any minute now.” Damn it. “I received the confirmation email ten minutes ago to say the deal went through, so he managed to close it. He’ll be in a good mood, Mike.”

“Until he gets here.”

“It’ll be fine,” Donna reassures. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” She leaves him alone in Harvey’s office, closing the glass door. With one last comforting smile, she re-takes her seat behind her desk, and gets back to work.

Harvey walks through the door not ten minutes later, Mike’s already wiped his hands on his jeans a hundred times and he’s sure there’s evidence of his anxiety all over him. Harvey stalls for a moment the second he sees Mike standing there, but proceeds into the office as normal.

Harvey’s meeting was to close on a merger deal. Nothing out of the ordinary, and a piece of cake for Harvey these days. He can get those things done with his eyes closed now. He told Mike about it two days ago, when Mike came to meet Rachel for lunch.

“How did it go?” Mike asks, feigning ignorance and pretending Donna didn’t just tell him the outcome thirty seconds ago.

“The deal’s done, Peters is happy and so is my accountant,” Harvey picks up the decanter bottle and pops the lid, glancing at Mike briefly. “Want one?”

“Celebrating in your office? Wild. No, really. You should slow down.” Mike comments with a hint of sarcasm and a smile. He nods yes to the drink, and Harvey simply rolls his eyes, pouring them both one anyway.

Harvey holds out a glass to Mike and they cheers to Harvey’s win before they take a sip. He sits down on the couch across from Harvey and listens to Harvey’s recount of the meeting—these days he listens more intently, lets himself become enthralled and feels every emotion as if it was him who closed the deal.

Perhaps a little selfish, and a little unhealthy, living vicariously through Harvey. But for the time being, that’s the best he can do. And he finds it helps. It’s not helping people like he wanted, that might take a little longer, but he’s found a certain peace in being around Harvey—it keeps the haunting thoughts of potential failure at bay.

But Mike’s finished his drink now and it’s done nothing to calm him down. His leg bounces, and he fidgets, can hardly sit still.

“Did you take speed this morning? The hell is the matter with you?” Harvey asks, and downs the rest of his scotch.

“No—no, of course not.” Mike tuts. Drug jokes with an ex-addict. Funny. “Nothing’s the matter.”

“So, why so twitchy?”

“I’m not twitchy,” Mike makes an attempt to still his leg but it ends up making his whole body feel like its vibrating, so lets it continue. “I’m fine.”

His eyes flicker to Donna’s on the other side of the door, and she mouths something at him that he can’t make out. He frowns, and he’s looking at her for too long because Harvey cottons on. Now he knows there’s something going on, and if there’s one thing Harvey hates, it’s being kept in the dark.

He stands from the couch, “Okay, Donna? Get the hell in here,”

“No, Harvey, wait—”

Mike isn’t ready for it to be right now. He had it planned out, goddamn it. He tries to snatch back Harvey’s attention before he turns but it’s too late. For the last twenty minutes, he’s managed to keep Harvey’s back to the wall but one tiny slip up and the cat’s out of the bag.

The painting’s hanging in the same place as before. There’s no outline of dust on the wall anymore that once emphasized its absence, and Mike’s pretty sure it isn’t lined up totally straight but he and Donna did their best with the time they had.

In the end, the decision for Stemple was an easy one.

Mike walked out of that building with the painting safely tucked under his arm, his bank account a little lighter than he could probably afford, and he called Donna to tell her the good news. Mike didn’t know whether to gift to Harvey, or just put it back and pretend it’d never been taken in the first place.

He thought he’d be able to decide when Harvey showed up, but the split second he had to make that decision overwhelmed him, he panicked, and now here they are.

Harvey’s mouth hangs slightly open and it’s like he’s in some sort of trance as he walks over to it. Being pulled towards it, almost. He stops just short of the painting. Doesn’t say a word, he’s just staring.

Mike doesn’t know what to do now. He either cracks a joke or he gets too deep. Harvey’s never been one to talk about his feelings, even if Mike has done something he’s sure is rather meaningful. But Harvey doesn’t need to say anything anyway. Mike’s only hope is that it’s enough to make up for his failing to be there for Harvey before, when he needed him.

So, Mike decides that—knowing Harvey, the type of man he is, and how he’d personally want the situation handled if it was him, he picks the former. “Hey, look at that,” He says, joining Harvey by the table. “You’re no longer the coolest guy in the world, with this in your office again.”

He’s expecting something in return. Harvey to bounce back like he always does, but he doesn’t say a thing. He looks over at Mike, and there’s nothing but emotion in his eyes that runs so deeply it nearly winds Mike where he stands.

“Don’t look at me.” Mike holds up his hands in false surrender. “But I guess, uh,” He keeps their eye-contact brief, looks between Harvey and the painting multiple times before settling his eyes upon the sentimental eye-sore again. “I guess someone must really care about you, huh.”

He’s staring at the painting so hard now he’s sure a hole will burn through it at any moment.

“And, you know, whoever did this… I mean, I think they’d want you to know that… that they’re sorry. And that they’ve always got your back, Harvey.”

Once the words are out, he tears his gaze away and locks eyes with the speechless man still standing beside him.

“No matter what.”

~~

**Author's Note:**

> HEY FAM
> 
> IT'S YA GIRL TEZZA
> 
> I WROTE A THING bc i couldn't stop thinking about it and also when i found out the episode would be called The Painting, this is what i'd ideally like to happen even though it probably won't you know but a girl can dream
> 
> hope you all like it
> 
> and as always, #teammarvey xo


End file.
